


as long as i'm here

by det395



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: 2010 Era (Phandom), Depression, M/M, Mutual Pining, Quarantine, Sharing a Bed, Unresolved, i should clarify im pretending covid-19 happened in 2010 bc i can do what i want, only one bed! a travesty!, phanworkschallenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-01
Updated: 2020-05-01
Packaged: 2021-02-23 04:26:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23939029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/det395/pseuds/det395
Summary: Facing instructions to leave his dorm amidst the pandemic, Dan turns to his best friend for a place to stay
Relationships: Dan Howell/Phil Lester
Comments: 9
Kudos: 108





	as long as i'm here

He taps a fast rhythm onto his suitcase handle. His heart beats faster at every floor the elevator passes.

A new era is going to begin once he raps his knuckles on the door at the end of the hallway. At least, that’s how it feels as he walks closer and closer. This solidifies it all, makes everything much more real

The door swings open and Phil’s smile is exuberant.

“Movin’ in, huh?” Phil says. He grabs Dan’s suitcase and pulls it through the door.

-

Phil lets the joke play out for another half an hour. “Here’s the kitchen, if you steal my sugar puffs you will be evicted. Rent is ₤5000 but if you want to use my shower, it’ll be ₤6000. The economy is in shambles, haven’t you heard?”

Dan rolls his eyes, leaning against the back of the loveseat. 

“And where’s my king bed with feather pillows? A nice five-star room?” Dan asks. His lip twitches.

“It’s five stars alright.” Phil walks closer until he’s leaning over Dan. “I starfish,” he whispers.

Dan pushes him away.

-

Dan has some guilt gnawing at his stomach for enjoying this. He has empathy for his family members who are laid off, and for his mum who’s having so much anxiety that she’s made twenty batches of essential oils in the past day. 

This is something he sincerely hopes will end soon. He’s done the late-night deep dive into articles about sickness and dying and quarantines all over the world. He’s sat there, eyes wide, trying to imagine each number as a person with sad, fearful families. 

Life could be much worse, though. He’s a lucky one, sitting here healthy, playing Crash Bandicoot with his best friend. He hasn’t had so little anxiety in his chest for weeks. The classes that left him with a bowling ball in the pit of his stomach are _over_. 

Maybe he’s excited for a break from therapy, too. As much as Kamilla helps, he wants to stop thinking about everything all the time. Bury his feelings in pizza and Ribena instead.

Thankfully, his mum agrees that the train is a gas chamber of germs and _at least he has such a nice friend in Manchester_. 

For the first time in a good long while his lips are splitting with how much he’s smiling. The worries over his head have dissipated and he feels as present as he ever does.

He finishes the level Phil struggled with in one go with a laugh and then feels a controller press gently against his temple in retaliation.

“Hey! This is not hygienic, you know,” Dan yells.

“We’re best friends, if one of us gets the virus, we’re _both_ going to get the virus.” Phil reaches out and puts his hands on Dan’s face.

“You can’t joke about that,” Dan laughs, pulling away. He can’t get very far away on this love seat and Phil is leaning very close.

“Besides, I haven’t left the apartment in forever, if anyone’s germy it’s _you._ You were clubbing last week,” Phil says.

“Maybe so. You already told me I could stay, no take-backs.” The image pops into his mind of the man he kissed last week, drunk and spontaneous, but he doesn’t need to make Phil worry.

“It’s worth it. I’m lonely.”

“If only you had more than one friend.”

“If only your mum had a friend.”

“Cold, man.” 

Phil bites his tongue and smiles at him until Dan has to look away and pretend to be invested in the next level.

-

When the sun goes down, they drag themselves out of the house for a big Tesco run. They walk slowly and spend their time pointing out items that can substitute for toilet paper.

“Ramen noodles, they soak up hot liquid,” Dan says, throwing a pile into the cart.

“Look at the fuzz on those peaches, it would feel great on your ass,” Phil says. Dan sticks his tongue into his cheek to stop from smiling too wide.

“Why don’t people just buy diapers?” Dan asks, turning into the appropriate aisle. He halts to a stop at the vastness of empty shelves. Dan thinks this could be a video game scene, the dark sky behind it all, the mess, the desolate shelves. A woman is standing there with her face in her hands and they both slowly turn back the way they came. Phil has enough toilet paper, he thinks.

They finish up quietly, grabbing a few fresh vegetables as per Kath’s request. They can’t _not_ follow her guidance when it’s her money they’re spending. 

Phil seems a little nervous. Dan can always tell by his shaky hands, which are very visible as he reapplies hand sanitizer. He holds it out for Dan and he takes it, only for Phil’s sake. 

-

They stay up really late because there’s really nothing to stop them. It reminds Dan of when he first came to Manchester to hang out. When they didn’t want to say goodnight, Dan eventually passed out on the couch and Phil left him there with a blanket draped over.

Tonight, Phil yawns and says “bed?”

They have shared a bed before. It’s one of Dan’s favourite things, actually. In a completely, totally, innocent way.

His things are already starting to line the bathroom sink and mark that corner of Phil’s bedroom as his. He stares at the wall while he strips off his jeans and his shirt, replacing them with one marginally larger shirt. He turns and Phil is doing the same, facing the other direction, yanking his shirt down over pale skin. He stares until Phil turns.

Dan remembers the first time they slept in the same bed, the brave mood they’d been in, nerves masked by the hood of exhaustion just as much as they were by the dark.

-

_“You sleep by the wall so you don’t fall out of bed,” Phil said._

_Dan snorted, crawling under the covers. “I’ve never fallen out of bed.”_

_“Well, y’know, this is a new bed and you might miscalculate the space you have or the direction you’re in.”_

_“Do you fall out of the new beds you sleep in? Every hotel, every friend's place?” Dan asked, watching each one of Phil’s limbs as he crawled in behind him._

_“No! I never have.”_

_“Are you sure? Why is this such a big worry for you?”_

_Phil giggled at Dan’s teasing and all felt right in the world. “Stop it,” he said._

_“Now I’m not going to fall off the bed at least, but get ready for me to barrel into you and knock you down, because I’m so not used to this bed in this particular direction.”_

_“Maybe my fear is that_ I’ll _barrel into_ you _. Maybe I’m actually Sonic.”_

_“Are you?”_

_Phil tucked his head and arms down and rolled as fast as he could until he ended up half on top of Dan. Dan laughed, the crack of his voice drifting through walls. Phil giggled and went to roll away but Dan instinctively grabbed onto him and held him in place. Phil settled down easily._

_-_

The real fear actually _is_ Phil’s clinginess. The tendency to move close and somehow steal all the covers in the process, too.

Dan crawls in bed, laying close to the cold air emanating from the windowpane. After setting his glasses precariously on the headboard, Phil moves close and sets his head above Dan’s shoulder, laying an arm gently across Dan’s stomach. His body deflates with a sigh.

Dan stares at the ceiling as his eyes slowly adjust to the patterns of stucco. He’s stared at it before when he can’t sleep, for hours on end it seemed, exhaustion warping his vision but his bad brain depriving him of sleep anyway.

This isn't a one-off day. Not an _oops we played video games until 3 am again._ Not a few-too-many-gross-wine-coolers night, not even a night of existential dread that freezes Dan in his panic for hours. 

This is a we-get-to-sleep-together-for-at-least-two-weeks ordeal. Innocently, though. Completely, totally, innocently sleeping together.

Phil isn’t that type of man to shy away from platonic cuddles, anyway. Dan’s never had a better friend. Their affection isn’t a joke to Phil, not in the way that Dan still falls to bouts of defensive irony, it just _is_. 

When Phil speaks, air wisps across his neck and he squeezes his eyes closed to stop from twitching.

“It’s weird isn’t it?” Phil whispers.

Dan hesitates. “Hm? _This?_ I didn’t think…”

“What?”  
  


“What?” Dan echoes.

“The virus. Being quarantined. I don’t think it’s really sunk in before.”

“Right. Yeah. Me neither.” Dan cringes at the ceiling, hoping Phil can’t see him.

“It feels weird.”

“Yeah,” Dan whispers.

“Are you doing okay?” Phil tilts his head closer.

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I mean, I had fun today.”

“You’re not having a crisis?” Phil moves his head up further on the pillow to look at Dan. 

Dan breathes in and out once to focus. “I guess maybe this is like I’ve been given a break from life. My mind can surely relax now.”

Phil nods in his peripheral. Dan wants to turn his head, but he’s scared of how close their faces would be.

“Feels like a snow day.”

Dan snorts. “Okay, insensitive.”

“I just can’t comprehend it. I think I’m sheltered.”

“Now I’m under the wing with you.”

“Yep! You’re going to be so-o sick of me!” Phil rolls closer and squeezes him tight with his arms and his legs. 

Dan laughs and nods while squirming around, but gently gets an arm around Phil’s back. Phil settles in and Dan lets himself enjoy this feeling while he has it.

-

He wakes up to something poking his back, pressing into his spine.

Even though he’s sunk five feet deep into his pillow and is in a trench of warmth and happiness that is this duvet, he forces himself to turn over and blink his swollen eyes.

Phil’s face is only a foot away, illuminated by the open windows, light shining in his eyes unfairly bright. He can see him up close in detail now, and his lips look like something out of a painting, pink and soft-looking. He looks perfect, every part of him is like a page taken out of Dan’s dreams.

“I want pancakes,” he says.

“Mm. In a minute,” Dan mutters.

“I’ll start them.” Phil crawls out of bed, and Dan slowly rolls into the warm spot on Phil’s pillow and lets his eyes shut again.

He doesn’t remember when he finally fell asleep last night. He remembers his numb arm and the cold air and the sound of water moving through pipes in the darkness, sounding like a hellish, croaking monster, but sleep escaped him for reasons he can’t understand.

When he’s awoken once again, Phil is holding plates, nudging Dan with his socked foot.

“Okay, you get out of cooking today only because you looked so sleepy.” Dan scoots over and gingerly takes the plate being thrust at him. 

“Oh.”

“I’m only training up so I’ll beat your ass next time we have a pancake flipping duel.”

“Okay. And how many ended up on the floor?”

“None! Though mine are… unique,” he holds up his plate of folded and torn pancakes.

“Still tastes good,” Dan says, shoving far too much into his mouth at once and leaning back into his pillow to chew. 

He’s thinking of a way to make them stay in bed but Phil decides to create a goal of making a video every day this week.

Dan watches Phil get ready like a superhero getting suited up. A batch of Nescafe, a plaid shirt chosen at random and batteries clicking into the camera, all the while Dan tries to get the energy to stand up.

He rests his chin on the kitchen table while he watches Phil film. Dan doesn’t usually get to see the word flubs that Phil does and ends up pressing a hand to his mouth to stop from laughing aloud.

“Shush!” Phil yells anyway.

“I didn’t say anything.”

“I can feel your eyes on me. I can’t do it when you’re watching.”

Dan ends up with his head on the table, turned to the wall now. He closes his eyes and listens. He imagines watching this video on his laptop, but right now he can hear the echo of Phil’s voice and every awkward pause. He can hear Phil talk to himself and then go right back to talking animatedly at the camera. What a feeling it is to look up to his best friend's creations so much. He smiles at the blank wall in front of him.

Phil wants them to film some more gaming videos. Dan can’t help but think of the rumours that will spark. It might be too late already, hearing Phil talk about having Dan as a housemate so he doesn’t go crazy. He doesn’t want to care about that anymore.

-

Phil’s ideas are usually simple but somehow endlessly creative. Lioness gets trapped in space, the spaceship being the dark bathroom with phone torches covered by different coloured shirts. 

Another time, he pretends to murder Dan for a scene, spraying half of his bottle of ketchup over the shower and holding a knife at a careful distance. They continue until someone bangs on the other side of the wall. It’s probably Dan’s fault for laughing so much, and now every time Dan showers, he sees a stream of orange seep out of the grout.

Phil edits the videos down to seamless, mysterious stories, but Dan revels in the world-building behind the scenes.

Other times they film themselves playing video games. Those days are long, because their breaks also happen to be filled with video games. Phil’s _other_ goal is perfecting their scores on every Crash Bandicoot level. It happens in the span of two days, then they move onto Super Mario Bros. Then Sonic. 

The only silence he really gets is when Phil goes off to edit his videos. Phil hasn’t done that today, they stay stuck on the same level and Dan is starting to feel an itch get under his skin, a need for something new, but even he can’t finish the fucking level and it doesn’t feel like he can walk away until then.

“Love to see you die in the same spot over and over again, this is really entertaining,” Dan says, his voice monotone. Phil’s constant missteps are grating on him more.

“Shut up.” Phil leans closer to the television.

“No really, I’m having so much fun.” Dan leans on the armrest, slouching over.

Phil stays quiet and Dan feels some heat in his chest that his words might be causing a bite. It’s not a feeling he gets often, but it’s not unfamiliar either. 

“If only you had a single ounce of patience in you.” Dan stares at the screen and snorts. “Oh look, you died, I’m shocked.” 

Phil throws the controller on the table with a loud clatter, nearly knocking over a glass of Ribena. Dan watches with exasperation but Phil just grabs the camera, mumbling something about enough footage.

He sits back down, heavy, and passes the controller to Dan without a glance.

Dan bites his lip and tries to concentrate but his hands don’t seem to move in ways he’s trying to make them. No matter how hard he bashes the controller, the character stumbles and falls backwards and loses health.

“Fuck!” He shouts. He drops the controller somewhere in the direction of Phil and leans to the side again. 

“Oh look, you died even earlier than me.” Dan feels Phil’s foot against his calf.

“Don’t kick me,” he snaps.

“I didn’t _kick_ you.” Phil laughs, but Dan can tell he’s on edge.

“Don’t _touch_ me then.”

Phil hesitates, holding the controller, but not restarting the level. 

“Maybe we should take a break,” Phil mutters, continuing to avoid Dan’s gaze.

Dan doesn’t reply. He festers in the frustration that has nowhere to go in his chest. Phil stands up first and walks past his legs.

Dan walks to the front door before he really knows what he’s doing, then scrambles for an excuse.

“Need to call my mum,” he says, shoving his feet in his trainers.

He walks down the hallway instead. And then back again, identical doors moving through his vision.

It’s freaking him out a bit right now that people are even behind all these closed doors, having their own, undoubtedly altered lives. There’s some form of similarity and familiarity to just about everyone in the world right now. It makes him feel trapped.

He finds a place to sit near the elevator and leans his head against the hard wall while he dials for his mum.

-

This could have been his year. He could have gotten better, could have opened up to his therapist completely. He could have made better friends at uni, gotten a shared house and had the time of his life like Phil did during school. He could have made it to the advanced law classes and his philosophy electives and found his passions.

He might have told Phil his feelings, eventually. 

He doesn’t know what time it is when he gets to Phil’s door. His legs ache slightly from pacing down identical hallways over and over again.

He feels like he needs to be extra quiet opening the door to Phil’s apartment. Like he’s tiptoeing back into the house with his parents after running off all over again.

Phil is already sitting up with a look on his face that makes Dan want to drown in his guilt.

“I… wasn’t sure where you were going,” is all Phil says.

“I called my mum.” Dan steps forward gently and sits on the armrest across from Phil’s spot.

“You were gone for like, two hours.”

Dan didn’t know that. It feels strange to think that he paced for so long, the phone call being so short. The exhaustion settles into his bones but he isn’t sure if that’s the emotional or the physical weight bearing down on him.

“Are you going home, then?” Phil asks.

Dan’s stomach sinks. Is he? It crossed his mind while he talked to his mum, but he wasn’t ready to act on such a disrupting thing now.

Phil saying it out loud makes it feel more real.

“Maybe? Maybe in a few days, except I don’t know if they’re going to block travel by then. I still want to hang out here for longer.”

“So you are struggling?”

“I’m worried that it’s coming,” Dan admits. “And because of that, I feel like I’ve made it happen prematurely.”

Phil talks slowly, the voice of a man trying to understand. “‘It’ being depression?”

Dan shrugs instead of his instinct to say no. He has the diagnosis, now, but it’s not that bad. He’ll be fine, once he works through things. He’s not as bad as others, he tells himself, though not sure if he believes it anymore.

“It’ll be better once you’re home?”

Does Dan want to wallow in his childhood bedroom again? Return to that state of mind, that darkness he experienced between those beige walls, against that rough carpet? The strange thing is, he kind of does. He stays quiet.

“Don’t you usually call me when you have bad days?”

“Yeah, sorry,” Dan mutters.

“I’m going to karate kick you off the couch if you apologize for that again.” He puts up his leg threateningly.

Dan laughs and then his nose starts to sting and his eyes grow watery from his feeling sliding up his chest into his throat. He slides forward so he’s sitting on the cushion with his legs pressed against Phil’s. Phil loops their ankles.

“It’s not bad for me to want to be a good friend to you. A good, reciprocal friend, who helps you work on videos or has fun with you instead of making you mope around with me while you can’t even get away from me.”

“I’ll mope more if you leave.”

“You say that now,” Dan laughs sarcastically.

“Why are you saying this? We spend a lot of time together.”

“Yeah, but…”

“What?” Phil shuffles even closer. He always drifts closer.

“I just don’t feel like I can ever control my brain. It just fucking—I always get down again. And therapy, I mean, I don’t know how much it can help. This is just who I am.”

“I know,” Phil tilts his head to the side.

“It shouldn’t be so bad, all I’m doing is playing video games with you.”

“Your routine is changed, purpose in life is kind of gone and you don’t have your own space,” Phil says.

Dan looks up at him with raised eyebrows.

“I’ve been trying to think about how you feel. I thought you would feel iffy right now, but you just haven’t told me. I’m not great either, I’m more anxious. Weird time and all,” Phil says, a dry laugh following.

  
“I’m always going to be a nightmare to live with or date or anything. I can’t stop it.”

“I always thought we’d live together one day,” Phil says. “This kind of felt like practice. I mean, maybe we’d have two rooms.”

Dan watches Phil’s face turn a few shades pinker. 

“What I mean to say is,” Phil continues. “I know who you are and I like you like this. I don’t _want_ you to be depressed but I—I don’t know, there’s just one Dan in my mind, and I like him a lot.”

Dan’s heart picks up speed and he stares at their feet. 

“I’m being dumb,” Dan says. 

Phil shrugs. Dan snorts, at least he knows Phil doesn’t lie to him.

“I don’t think being isolated is good for my mental health. I’ll try to think of stuff to do, but I might be… I might spiral in the next couple weeks, be a lot to handle or maybe just barely here.”

“I want you to stay,” Phil mutters and starts to shuffle forward even more. Dan’s feet have no room whatsoever.

“Okay, yeah. I’ll stay for now.”

“Good,” Phil says, staring at him like he sees right into Dan’s soul.

-

For the next few days, he gets some free time when Phil heads off to edit. He’s too drained to do anything of substance so he flops on their entirely uncomfortable loveseat. 

Another batch of instant coffee fills the apartment with warm smells.

“Three cups of coffee wasn’t enough?”

“This is only my third!” Phil says defensively, steam rising up his face as he takes a sip. As strange as it seems to Dan, Phil seems to thrive by working himself to the bone. 

Dan just shakes his head and closes his eyes. His legs hang off the loveseat and his neck angles strangely against the armrest, surely giving him an attractive double chin.

He listens to the sound of Phil’s typing as the minutes stretch on. It’s comforting, somehow, taking a minute to breathe helps him. The sounds linger in his mind as he begins to doze off until something taps his foot.

“Scoot over. I wanna sit next to you.”

Dan mumbles but doesn’t move. Phil takes liberty and flops over the armrest, his skull digging into Dan’s chest.

“You okay?” Phil asks.

Dan nods, squirming under him, “just tired.”

“Another sleepless night?” Phil asks. He looks up to see the nod of Dan’s head.

“We could watch a movie? Or play video games?” 

Dan bites his lip. 

“...Or anything,” Phil says eventually. He shrugs as if trying to look casual, but he moves off of Dan and just puts a hand on his knee.

“I think I just need to lay down.” He stands so Phil’s hand falls back into his lap. Phil nods and clearly tries to smile kindly. 

He escapes to Phil’s room and crawls in the covers. He kicks his sweatpants off and curls up on Phil’s pillow.

-

When he wakes, his mouth is dry and sticky and tastes like a bitter version of their frozen pizza from earlier while his bladder seems to slosh at each movement. He counts down from ten in his head and forces himself to move.

He rolls across an empty expanse of mattress before Phil pops into his mind. 

He has a weird sense of not knowing what time it is or what’s going on. He feels lost like he usually does when his brain gets like _this._ Floating through his discomfort on the edge of dread and numbness that he has tipped over before. Not today, he hopes.

First things first, he rushes to the toilet. He brushes his gums raw and gurgles mouthwash until he feels at least 5% more human.

When he returns, he realizes the room is only illuminated by the dim light of a horror movie, some blonde woman running and screaming down a fluorescent hospital corridor. 

“Is that Sarah Michelle Gellar?” He asks. He doesn’t hear Phil’s response behind the running of the tap. He glugs back some lukewarm water.

“What time is it?” He asks a bit louder, walking closer and searching for his cellphone. 

With no response he finally steps around the love seat for a better view of Phil curled up, holding a throw pillow against his chest.

Dan huffs out a silent laugh and gets to his knees gently. He reaches out a hand but pauses mid-air.

If none of this had happened, Dan thinks he would have built up the courage to ask Phil on a date. Eventually. Even if he’s not exactly what Phil deserves in a boyfriend. 

Phil’s shriek registers in Dan’s mind before he realizes his eyes have popped open, making him jump back half a foot away.

“Christ, _fuck_ ,” Dan says. “Not a murderer! It’s me!”

“You can’t do that to me! Fuck!” Phil puts his hand over his heart and lays back down. 

“I didn’t do anything! Why are you sleeping on the couch?”

“I wanted to watch the bad version of The Grudge,” Phil says.

“Okay… and fall asleep to the sweet sounds of bloody murder?”

“Not much blood in this one.”

“Phil.” Dan raises his eyebrow.

“And give you some alone time,” Phil says.

Dan smiles at that. “Okay, but the last thing I want to do is steal your own bedroom from you. Come here, you twat,” Dan pulls Phil up by his arms and finds the remote and his cellphone under Phil’s butt.

He goes to lay in bed while Phil brushes his teeth. The exhaustion has left him, at least for now, and in its place is a feeling that’s both sensitive and confusing. A feeling that makes him crave Phil’s closeness again.

And he gets his wish now, obviously. Phil first strips off his jeans and changes his shirt and Dan watches his skin in the pale moonlight. He pulls on some dumb pyjamas that clash with his bright shirt and leaves his socks on the floor only a couple feet from his laundry basket. Dan only gets to see his glasses on for these few moments in the morning and the night, and they’re always wonky and adorable. 

Phil sits on the bed and Dan sits up.

Phil pauses with his fingers holding the sides of his glasses and gives him a look, waiting to see what Dan is going to say. Dan has nothing to say, he doesn’t know why he sat up.

Whatever Phil assumes of him, he moves closer and gives Dan a gentle hug. It doesn’t help his suddenly fluttering heart one bit.

“You okay?” Phil asks.

“Yeah.”

“You sure?”  
  


“Phil. Thank you for giving me space, but really, I’m staying,” Dan reassures.

“Do you like staying here with me?” Phil asks, eyebrows raised in worry. He pulls back and Dan watches him closely. Phil’s eyes look grayscale right now but are as bright as ever in the moonlight. Dan’s fingers twitch and he thinks about what he really wants right now.

“Some days I think you’re completely unhinged making your videos and leaving a mess everywhere, but yeah. Overall, I’m happy to be here.” He laughs weakly.

“Maybe one day we’ll be real roommates? Two bedrooms and all.” Phil gives him a half-smile.

Dan frowns and watches Phil’s own smile falter.

Dan looks away and mutters, “Sorry.”

“Why are you apologizing?” Phil gets a hand under Dan’s chin to bring his face back. Phil’s Adam's apple bobs up and down when Dan looks at him again.

“Nothing,” he says. He sighs and moves out of Phil’s grip. “Let’s sleep.”

He settles down and listens to every rustle and every sigh until Phil finally hugs him from behind, settling in close and warm. 

Dan stares out the window, at this angle he can see the sliver of dark clouds shadowing over the stars. It will probably be a long night of restlessness yet again, memorizing the corners of Phil’s room and counting breaths. Nothing could have prepared him for how hard it is to sleep next to the person he loves, how antithetical it is of his brain to be taking in this nice affection.

Phil pulls him a bit closer than usual and Dan swears he feels Phil’s lips brush unmistakably across the back of his neck.

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr link](https://det395.tumblr.com/post/616878449891622912/as-long-as-im-here)


End file.
